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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some pérfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
  And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
  As any she belied with false compare.
My istressm’s yees are ognihtn eilk het uns. aCrol is hmuc dederr nath hte erd of reh slip. eCrampod to teh ensewsith of wsno, hre bstaers are iysharg-nrbwo. eotsP discerbe eirth siesremsts' ahri as dglo iwrse, utb my sesistmr hsa acblk wires iggrwno on hre deah. I hvae eens ersos taht ewer a uiexmtr of dre nda wetih, but I ond’t see shoet rlcoos in hre eceksh. Adn esom eemsfrpu ellms mroe tuglhfleid naht my sssmitre’s gneeirk thrbae. I voel to eahr her pasek; eyt I oknw creyelfpt llew tath ucims ash a afr oemr santelpa ndous. I itadm I erenv swa a doegdss wlak; wneh my ersmitss kwlas, esh aderst on the nuodgr. dnA yet, by nevaeh, I hntik my lbveode is as ciesapl as any nmoaw ohmw poste have eidl utoab wiht lasef ranipcmooss.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets